The Last Laugh
by Moonwaif
Summary: During a late night feeding, Rize encounters an interesting new stranger…
Rize's blood pumps in time to the bass. Its vibrating booms are just loud enough to mask the wet sounds of her chewing as her victim whimpers beneath her, his forehead pale and slick with the coming of death. She pauses to look down at him, her smile angelic. And that's probably what she looks like from his point of view; an angel covered in blood, her halo the soft glow of neon lights. She's the last thing he'll ever see.

He'd been rather confused when she'd led him outside. A pretty, frilly little thing like her already looked out of place in a nightclub, nonetheless in a grimy alleyway; but still, he'd followed her, his predatory intentions obvious in the stiff bulge that pressed against her leg as they kissed. The electronic music leaked out from the club and into the night, sealing them together in a private little envelope. When she punctured his kidney with her kagune, the beat dropped, and the piercing screams he emitted were made just for her.

Ecstasy.

But now she senses an interruption. She feels someone watching her - someone close. She grits her teeth as their footsteps echo toward her. She whips around, her scelera cole black, when a woman emerges in the dim lamplight. She's tall, slender, dressed in black. Long auburn hair undulates to her waist.

"Such a noisy eater," she remarks, smiling playfully. "Didn't anyone ever teach you to chew with your mouth closed, Kamishiro Rize?"

Rize is not surprised that this woman knows her. She's developed quite a name for herself in Tokyo. Not through any intentional effort, of course. Standing out in the ghoul world is inevitable when everyone else is so steeped in mediocrity. But the way this woman is approaching her - slowly, purposefully, yet with no explicit threat - sets Rize on edge.

"It's rude to interrupt another's meal," Rize remarks back, rising gracefully to her feet. "Although I wouldn't expect such a weak-looking ghoul as you to understand."

The woman laughs; a high-pitched, girlish sound that feels out of place in the current setting. "Ah, Rize-san," she says, catching her breath, "you're as delightful as they say! But, you know, I do find it surprising that you're hunting here."

"I hunt where I please," Rize responds coolly, looking down her nose.

"Ooh?" the woman gasps with exaggerated surprise. "You're not afraid of the Pierrot? Rumor has it, this ward is might be part of their territory."

Rize snorts. "Those sad little clowns don't 'let' me do anything - if they even exist."

The woman's eyes, amber and rimmed with lashes, widen. "Wah, Rize-san, you really have no fear. As expected, from such a powerful ghoul!"

Rize can't tell if the woman is being facetious, but her shoulders relax. "Flattery doesn't go far with me," she deadpans. "If you've come here to eat, I hate to disappoint you - but I don't share. If you're lucky, I'll let you lick up the scraps."

She starts to turn when the woman lurches forward, her stiletos grinding into the pavement. "Actually, I'm not here for the food. Although I must admit, your little snack is stinking up the place."

She smiles again, as if she's said something incredibly funny. Rize's eyes narrow. 'Ah,' she thinks, 'here it comes; the confrontation. Well fine; I could use a little after dinner exercise.'

The woman steps closer, and Rize's body tenses as she prepares to dodge. Evasion isn't her typical style. She prefers to be on the attack, but something about this woman, with her ringing laughter and fluid movements, makes Rize want to draw her in closer.

Although she far prefers the flavor of humans, Rize suddenly wonders what this woman would taste like.

The woman smirks, and as if reading her thoughts, she pulls her hair back from her shoulder. The gesture is welcoming, like parting a curtain. Rize stares hungrily at the expanse of throat revealed to her, the scent of blood rising from the exposed jugular. She reaches out to run her finger over it, and it's taut and full, practically ready to burst beneath her touch. The woman moans, and Rize feels a sudden throb between her legs that catches her off guard. And in this moment of weakness, the woman darts forward, until their bodies are pressed together.

Rize nearly stumbles backward, but the woman wraps an arm around her waist, steadying her.

"Do you like this, Rize-san?" she whispers, and even though the words are quiet, they drown out the sounds of the night like a pillow muffling the moans of a dying man. "Should I tell you the reason I came out here tonight?"

Rize doesn't answer. Her heart is pounding, her arms half open at an awkward angle, as if to return the embrace. The woman laughs quietly, using her free hand to guide Rize's to her hip. Rize grips the curve tightly, her hand sliding down the smooth fabric greedily until she reaches the thigh.

Ah, so soft, so tender, and yet so firm. Chewing this would be tough.

"I came," the woman says, her face drawing closer, until her lips brush against Rize's as she speaks, "because you are interesting to me, Rize-san."

Rize parts her lips easily, thoughts dissipating as she opens herself to the kiss, swallowing it whole. The sour flavor of blood wine is sharp enough that Rize feels dizzy. Soft hands reach up to caress her face while the woman's body grinds against hers, sweeter than any meat she's ever tasted. Their breathing, is feathery and frantic; the moment is too heady, too appetizing. When Rize feels the woman's plump lower lip snag softly against her teeth, she can't help but bite down. The blood that fills her mouth is hot and bitter, but Rize wants more of it, more -

A sigh escapes Rize's lips as the woman pulls away. Her eyes are round, and she stares at Rize in a moment of shock before wiping away the blood from her mouth with the back of her hand.

"How savage," she remarks drily. "Maybe I should come back once you've learned some manners."

Her heels click softly as she struts away. Rize watches, an odd ache in the pit of her stomach, her appetite suddenly gone.

When the woman reaches the end of the alleyway, she pauses, looking back over her shoulder.

"Don't forget to clean up your mess," she calls, her smirk luminous. "Wouldn't want the Clowns catching on, just case. After all, you know what they say: clowns always have the last laugh."


End file.
